The Helix
by Blue-eyesThropp
Summary: The Helix was always Jerome's greatest hill to climb; his blessing and burden simultaneously. Rated T merely for safety reasons.
1. The Golden Babe

**Author's Note: Hi there fellow fanfictioners! So, this is my second Gattaca fanfiction now. This time, I started off with the notion of analyzing the importance of the spiral shaped staircase, and the story evolved from there. It's going to be a short chapter fic highlighting some important points in Jerome's life, switching between past and present (and thris/first person. Yes, this ****_is_**** intentional) while he "climbs" the stairs in one of the later ****scenes of the movie. I really hope this will turn out how I planned... Oh, and by the way, I'm no scientist. Actually, I'm godawful at biology. So, all the science-y stuff is this is probably pure crap ;-) So, yeah, anyway, I hope you enjoy this and would be so kind as to drop me a little review at the end.  
Tonnes of love  
-Blue-eyes**

**Summary: The Helix was always Jerome's greatest hill to climb; his blessing and burden simultaneously. **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Will that suffice?**

Chapter 1: The Golden Babe

My body collided with the floor and it took me several seconds to regain my breath. From my floor bound position, I lifted my eyes- for I could lift no more- to the long, winding staircase. To anyone else, ascending it would have been no more difficult than anything else. Once, it would have been for me, also. I imagined myself, a young man, sprinting up the spiral with ease, lightly hopping from one step to the other. But here I was, worming my way across the floor towards the fearsome helix that separated the bottom floor of my house from the one I should have rightfully been residing on, my arms never failing me, at least, so very different from that man.

* * *

_Jerome Eugene Morrow had been born on the third of August, 2019, to Augustus and Camilla Morrow, an English family of high breeding but, the two having been born before the completion of the GTCA project, almost worthless genetic code. Camilla was a beautiful and slender woman, strong with good stamina- or so her husband might have said- but she was severely short sighted and had a tendency towards depression and seasonal affective disorder, plus fairly crowded teeth and unequally positioned patellae, which required her to wear orthopaedic shoes at all times. Augusts, who was in his thirties when his first son was born, was already developing a portly stomach and was, in years to come, wont to fulfil his destiny of high cholesterol. He, as his mother had, would probably go deaf or become hard-of-hearing with age, and his eye sight, too, was not the best. His eyes were a tad close together, his nose a little too large for his face; altogether his looks were ordinary to fair, but never superior. Also, the poor man suffered greatly from athlete's foot. While neither counterpart of the Morrow marriage could boast superior looks or skills, they had nevertheless been able to secure that their son would. _

_Project GTCA was a prestigious albeit slightly daring venture; Doctor Leopold Reich, a German scientist, had succeeded in unlocking the foundation of all human life forms, the essence of their being: the DNA. He had further endeavoured to create the key to creation itself… and succeeded. For not quite a handful of years, it had been possible to almost exactly determine every single attribute of unborn children and to engineer then in certain way; to change that which would hinder them later on life and enhance that which would benefit them. It had been only a few years since this next stage in genetic engineering had been approved and legalised, but already there were thousands of children with night on perfect genetic codes, symbolising the next step in human evolution. And soon, there was to be another. _

_The day of Jerome's birth was sunny and warm, a cool breeze wafting through the open window of the hospital ward. Camilla had only been in labour for a few hours, but the doctors were already taking the paid for precautions to shorten it as much as was possible. The soon-to-be mother's yelps and cries echoed off the bright hospital walls, as did her husband's urges to keep pushing, intermingled with "Cloths!" and "Pillows" and "Get the bloody mask, Janine!" and "He's crowning!" _

_Augustus watched both in fascination (and just a touch of terror and confusion) as his baby boy- his beautiful, requested and highly invested in son- pushed his way out of his mother's womb. The head, though slick with fluids Augusts cared not to find out more about, was already well formed, no bossing or receding of the forehead so far the new father could tell from his vantage point, and already betrayed soft blonde curls. Tiny shoulders followed next, along with a sturdy chest and little round tummy. The new-born's legs did not seem bowed and were of a good length, as was the rest of his little body, and when finally the smart little feet with neatly curled toes arrived, Camilla let out a cry of and pain and ecstasy, and Augustus scrambled over to his wife, scooping her up in his arms, clinging on to her for dear life. _

_It was only when they heard the whirring of a machine and the creaking and pulsating sounds of a long list being printed that they let go of each other. Weary eyed, propped up on her husband's arm, Camilla looked over at the nurse who had taken her brand new son's blood sample. _

_"__How is he?" _

_The nurse, a stunning African woman with a mild accent, proceeded to read from the list. _

_"__We've eliminated every genetic imperfection we could. You'll be happy to hear that he has a zero percent chance of any eye condition, deafness, heart disease, lung disease, liver problems. His bone strength and potential muscle mass is far beyond average, exceeding that of a non GTCA baby by… seventy two percent." The nurse read more numbers and conditions of the list, nothing but the most mild conditions such as slight tooth crowding or a tendency to mild eczema exceeding a probability 0,137 percent._

_"__Bloody hell," Augustus breathed, glancing over at his wife. She, in turn, twisted her hand around to grab onto his in happiness. _

_"__Potential height: six foot to six foot three. He has a five point three percent chance of addictive behaviours," continued the nurse "and an eight percent chance of manic depression" the beautiful nurse looked at the new parents apologetically, "but other than that, you have yourself a child practically perfect in every way. Do we have a name yet?"_

_"__Jerome!" _

_"__Eugene!" _

_Both parents spoke at once, prompting giggles from the nurse. _

_"__Jerome Eugene," Augustus tried again, and Camilla nodded in agreement. _

_The nurse jotted down his name on both the list of his genetic dispositions, and the again on a document lying next to it. She rolled up the list, tying it neatly with a little ribbon, and, taking the baby from the padded dish he had been lying in, wrapped in a towel, into her arms, passed both of them onto Camilla. _

_With gentle fingers, she removed the towel from her son's face and peered into his eyes, which, though only opened the tiniest slit, appeared already sapphire blue in colour. _

_"__Jerome Eugene Morrow…" she whispered. _

_"__If I may say so myself," the nurse interrupted, but not unkindly, "It's the perfect name for a boy of his genetic code. He'll make you proud, someday, your little golden boy will."_

_"__Did you hear that, Jerome?" Camilla cooed into the towel, "You're my little golden boy._

* * *

Readjusting my legs to be in alignment with the rest of my body, I reached out for the bottom step; the first step on my climb to the top of the helix.

**_Author's note: Before I forget, this fanfiction is for ViendraLione, who served as my main inspiration. Thank you ViendraLione!_**


	2. A Duck to Water

**Author's Note: Right, back with chapter 2 of The Helix. Yay (?) I hope this chapter isn't too... Vanilla. It's not easy writing about two things I know absolutely squat about: biology and swimming. Jerome is kind of based on one of my friends who is on her way to becoming a swimmer., so it may be at least half-plausible. Well, I hope you enjoy this and would take the time to drop me review. Reviews are love.****  
****Kindest regards,****  
****Blue-eyes Thropp**

Chapter 2: A Duck to Water

Holding my head up to keep it from banging on the wooden steps, I stretched my arm out, over my head, to grab onto the banister around the corner. Aside from the fact that my bottom half was unmoving and I felt a dead weight to my own body, it was almost like swimming.

Vincent had told me one night that I should be going to Titan. Up there, he had said, my legs wouldn't matter a jot. I remembered how being in the water was similar. Complete weightlessness. Was it that that had originally attracted me to swimming?

* * *

_As it had most of the last years, Jerome's birthday celebration took place in an unusually un-Anglian sun. Children flitted gaily around and sung songs all day, repeating the catchy Happy Birthday melody even long after all the candles had been blown out- in one puff, naturally. The youngest Morrow's lungs were already strong enough to extinguish at least twice as many of the little cake candles in one breath._

_Thankfully, Camilla and Augustus Morrow had had the sense to take the children to the woods that day, right near a lake. The trees provided a little shade at least, and prevented the chocolate icing atop the cake from melting and the guests from overheating. The only downside to the woodland setting of the party were the insects. Many children had already ran up to Mrs. Morrow, crying and squealing from the pain of a wasp sting. Jerome had suffered at the hands of a particularly ruthless wasp, but, unlike the other kids, had brushed off the pain, slinking over to his mother only to show her the swelling on his forearm, which scared him a little._

_Jerome was not the only GTCA child at his party- the term vitro or Valid was preferred in the case of such children- but by far the only one of his calibre. Just a year ago or two ago, he had been able to play peacefully with these weaker children, but now that he was eight, Mr. and Mrs. Morrow were beginning to notice a more distinct difference in height, intelligence andstrength between their son and other Valid, not to mention Invalid, boys of his age. He had started taking an interest in reading at age three, at first memorising his picture books, then words, and was by now a fully capable reader. He had shown special talents in science, as far as a just eight year old could, taking great pleasure in little experiments and regarding things under the microscope his grandmother had presented him with for his sixth birthday. What was more, he engaged in rough and tumble games, always winning, but always playing fair. He had a strong moral code when it came to fisticuffs, and although he would never sacrifice the honour of first place for altruism, he gauged his opponents well and fought them according to their strength rather that his own, so as not to hurt them. Races were a common past-time between Jerome and his friends, as was swimming. Swimming, it seemed, was Jerome Eugene's biggest passion._

_It had started when he was but a toddler of three. His father had taken him to Weymouth for an extended weekend, some father-son time, right at the coast. Pictures of them matching bathing shorts still decorated the Morrow house's walls. It had been an unusually hot day without any rain, and Jerome had been complaining something rare. Although his tolerance levels were unusually high for most things, he was still a little London boy at heart, and, at that time, a day without rain was a day in hell. To soothe his little boy, it had been Augustus' spur-of-the-moment decision to scoop Jerome up in his arms and run with him to the sea, which was right behind their holiday residence. The moment they were in the cool, aquatic realm, Jerome had taken to it like a duck. It seemed as though the movements required to keep afloat were also genetically inbuilt in the little boy, and his father had spent the whole day perfecting them with him. For the rest of the weekend, father and toddler had spent every sunny moment splashing about in water, learning to swim. It had not stopped after they returned, either. By the time he was five, Jerome was a superb swimmer, one of the best of his age group._

_"Can we thwim, Mitheth Morrow?"_

_Camilla had been lost in memories, and startled at the tug on her long, summer dress. Gillian, a little Valid of seven, was stood behind her. Although her parents had pain a decent sum of money for their little girl, she had still developed a lisp and her speech was, as a result, a little slurred. Camilla noticed the beads of perspiration on her forehead. No wonder, they had been playing a rather wild game of hide and seek and piggy-in-the-middle._

_"Oh, love, I don't think so. Maybe when Augustus gets back from the house."_

_The truth was, Camilla Morrow was no swimmer. Her husband was, though, yet he had driven back to the house to fetch more lemonade, which was being downed by the children like there was no tomorrow. She would not risk one of the children hurting themselves or going under without someone there who could save them._

_"But that'th not fair," the little girl protested, her manners not that which the ought to have been, "Matthew wath allowed!"_

_Camilla's head snapped around. To her horror, she saw nine year old Matthew Morrisey's head bobbing up and down in the water, his hand flying out and waving to the other children above his head. That child had been blessed with a brilliant body to contest even Jerome's, but no sense to speak of._

_"Bloody hell..." Camilla breathed, and then, throwing down the hand-held fan that had been keeping her cool, she trotted down to the lake as quick as her impractical heels would carry her._

_"Matthew!" she called out, her hand cupped around her mouth for an auditory advantage, "get out! Matthew, come out of there at once!"_

_But the youngster was too far out to hear her. He was still waving and grinning foolishly, enjoying the attention that he was getting, for all the other children, hearing Mrs. Morrow's cries, had gathered around her and were now watching as Matthew swam demonstratively further out. He seemed, for a while, to be absolutely fine, enjoying himself, even, and Mrs. Morrow began to relax. After all, wasn't Matthew almost as perfectly engineered as her own son?_

_It was then that Matthew's head first disappeared. Most of the party guests laughed, believing it to be some kind of diving stunt, and, sure enough, his head reappeared again. And then it disappeared. And reappeared. And disappeared. When his head popped out of the water for the third time, it was accompanied by an arm, splashing frantically in the water, sometimes coming up over the bobbing head and waving. Camilla started and began to scream for help, at Matthew, at the children, but all her efforts were futile. She could not rush to his aid, much less could any of the little kids around her knees, who were starting to get nervous themselves._

_As Camilla frantically screwed her head around in all different directions, she barely noticed a little figure beside her rip his shirt off over his head, kick off his shoes and relieve himself of his trousers before running down to the water, barefoot, and plunging in. It was only once the figure had dived into the lake that she noticed her son was missing._

_"Jerome?" she called out, but was not met with an answer, "Has anybody seen Jerome?"_

_"He'th there, Mitheth Morrow."_

_Gill, who was still hiding behind Camilla's skirts, was holding a pointed finger out horizontally in front of herself. Camilla followed it with her eyes, all the way beyond the bank of the lake, skirting the horizon, until they located a little boy, already half way between them and the other child in the water, swimming rapidly in his direction. Camilla's eyes widened and her lips parted, but she didn't even bother calling out. Jerome was already too far out to hear her anyway._

_The lake was a very different environment to the pool Jerome was accustomed to, and every time he felt a piece of seaweed wrap around his ankle, or the bottom of the lake took a sudden dip, or a stray fish brushed past him, the young boy felt slightly panicked. But his teacher had told him that panic was the worst thing that could happen to anyone in the water, so he pushed on, relentlessly, until he reached his friend, who was slowly being dragged under water, his strength having left him. Jerome had been told how to save someone when he had acted as a lab-rat for some of the older children in his swimming group who were learning how, but it was quite another thing actually grabbing someone under the chin and pulling them out of the water when they were trashing about as much as Matthew. Still, he tried to get as good a grip on his friend as he could and, when he felt that he had, began to make his way back to the bank, constantly checking that Matthew was alright. He could hear the other party guests all those feet away from him, some cheering him on, some chattering excitedly, and some plain scared. Secretly, he revelled in the attention and, partly without noticing it himself, stretched his back a little further and kicked his feet with a little more grace._

_When they reached the back, Camilla Morrow pulled both boys onto the muddy ground. She embraced her son tightly, his blonde hair leaving a wet mark on her floral summer dress, then turned to the young Morrisey boy. She was sorely tempted to chastise him, but as she saw him lying on the ground, coughing for air, all she could really do was thank the heavens that Jerome had saved him on time. _

_It was much later that Matthew finally summoned up the courage and humility to thank Jerome. He even deigned to add, "You're a really good swimmer, Jerome."_

_Jerome thanked him. After the young boys had gazed rather awkwardly down at their feet for several seconds, Jerome was struck with the sudden urge to share a piece of advice he had found very helpful. _

_"My swimming teacher says we should always save something for swimming back. Then you won't go under."_

_Matthew seemed rather apalled at the fact that the younger boy was trying to give him advice, so he turned around, wordlessly, on his heel and marched back to where the other children were playing. _

_Camilla, having overheard much of the conversation, came up behind her young boy and wrapped her arms around him. _

_"Well done," she whispered to him, "you're my little hero, do you know that?" _

_As his mother ruffled his hair, Jerome beamed with pleasure and there and then, standing on the bank of a lake, still damp, on his eighth birthday, Jerome Eugene Morrow knew that he never wanted to be anything else in his life. _

**Author's Note: I am never again going to try and write in spite of creative block. Next time, it'll just have to wait. Sorry for this awful mess. I would still appreciate reviews and the likes of such though ;-)**


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